


There And Back Again

by Val_Creative



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adults, Auror Harry Potter, Confident Sirius Black, Consensual, Emotional, Everyone Is Gay, Far Future, Flirting, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Moving In Together, Mutual Pining, No Incest, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Oblivious Harry Potter, Older Harry Potter, POV Sirius Black, Post-Canon, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Content, Sirius Black Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Sirius returns from the veil ten years after he went in, with no clue time has passed. He finds himself helplessly attracted to Harry at twenty-five years old.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Harry Potter
Comments: 20
Kudos: 439





	There And Back Again

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally for the **Sirius Black 2019 Fest** but it got deleted? I'm not sure why but I'm gonna post it anyway. Thank you to Kat who wants nothing to do with AO3 but still beta read my HP fics for me. Any mistakes are a result of me and not of Kat. My summary is the prompt I was assigned to make for LeotinaBowie in this fest. I really hope they like this. I hope you guys like it too. Thank you.

*

Time-related magic has its flaws. Death hardly comes as an easy subject to investigate and categorise.

On record, it'll be pronounced the eve of June 2006, approximately seventeen or eighteen days in — one of the Unspeakables notices the Veil rippling against an invisible, forceful current. Nearly flapping back and forth. The ground under their feet vibrates to an audible, dulled roar. Whispers hush abruptly. They'll voluntarily testify in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's inspection to have observed the event of the Great Anomaly, to attempt a set of findings. But that is a _lie_.

She _ran_.

Be it an act of fear or urgency to locate another person to observe alongside her, this Unspeakable ran out of the Death Chamber. She abandoned her position long enough for a soul to return to the Living World.

The tattered black curtain parts, revealing a gaunt-faced and unshaven Sirius Black. He drops to his knees with a harsh noise, weakened by Bellatrix's masterful Stunning Spell, falling facefirst and slumping limply onto the dais-steps. At this point, the Unspeakable will race back inside, gawking in horror, before she gathers her wits and magicks a stretcher from nothing.

*

Sirius doesn't believe it. Not really.

Ten years.

He had been gone — _dead_ — for ten years in the space referred to as Beyond-The-Veil.

Rubbish. He's fine. Sirius wakes eventually to a private, white-curtained room in Ministry of Magic's upper floor, not recognising the Aurors questioning him. They poke and prod and test him for an imposter. No Polyjuice. No magical malady. He's Sirius Black, thirty-six and his heart beating.

It doesn't truly hit him until Sirius glimpses Harry rushing in from the corridor. His untidy, black hair less untidy. Faint ageing lines and bruising colour under his eyes. He's so much taller. But it's the same piercing, bright green eyes and light brown skin.

For the briefest of moments, Sirius imagines this is how James might have looked… if he had not died at twenty-one…

_"Harry…"_

All it takes is Sirius's rasping, warm voice, and Harry sobs out quietly, nudging past the Aurors and hugging Sirius. His expression crumples, blotchy red and shining with tears. A permanent look of disbelief on him. Sirius can feel him quivering all-over. He touches his mouth to Harry's curls, inhaling, succumbing to an odour of rainfall and lemongrass cologne.

"Is this…?" Harry pulls away, dismayed. He grasps onto Sirius's arms, glancing him over. "Is this happening?"

Sirius knows it would break Harry apart, grieve him and torment him until the end of his days if he wasn't the Sirius that Harry knew. "Of course it is," Sirius says encouragingly, his teeth flashing in a crooked, loving smile. " _Look at you_. You're a man now."

Harry's fingers tighten painfully.

"I need you to tell me everything that's happened."

*

It doesn't feel _real_ hearing that Dumbledore cleared Sirius's name of betrayal so long ago. Azkaban doesn't want him. Nobody assumes Sirius Black murdered twelve Muggles, and the traitor Peter Pettigrew, and his own two best friends.

He can't even thank Dumbledore for it. Seems like Death, once again, goes out of its way to separate him from those who care.

Remus is gone. Tonks. Mad-Eye Moody. Even one of Arthur Weasley's kids. Fifty or more Hogwarts students.

Sirius's jaw clenches. He focuses instead of the ornate, blackwood mirror reflecting him and his dirtied clothing. Blood splatters on his striped, dark green velveteen jacket and their lapels. Sirius's dotted, grey vest with its low neckline dried with perspiration and reeking to high heaven, as well as his black-and-grey pinstriped undershirt and the corduroy twill on his dark suit-pants.

Of all places, Sirius didn't want to end up back in 12 Grimmauld Place a third time.

But, well, Harry insists it's just _overnight_. He's bought a small manor for himself on the grounds and deep, foggy woods Harry inherited from James and his relatives.

"Alright?" Harry murmurs, leaning slightly to the door-frame. The yellow, oscillating gaslights chasing out murkiness.

Sirius pulls off his jacket, folding the material over his arm and discarding it.

"I should be asking you that," he replies, giving him a laugh and playful nose-crinkle. Sirius's grin flourishes when Harry's lips press together into a good-humored and close-lipped smile, There's no fragment of the child Harry had once been, transformed into an exquisite and mature adult. Perhaps with more determination inside himself than Sirius feigned as a young man.

"… I am now," Harry breathes out, clearly in his deep admiration for Sirius.

Perhaps some things haven't changed. The fondness Sirius carries for him overflows, wishing to protect him, regretting having not been here for him during the last War.

"Getting older suits you, Harry," he says cheekily. "Wizardkind must be throwing themselves at you. Men and women alike."

Harry shakes his head, frowning, appearing embarrassed.

He says _"no, no, ss'not true_ " but Sirius hardly believes him. Harry's too poor of a liar when Sirius gets to be around him.

This is the Wizarding World's champion and defender and _savior_. The Boy Who Lived. The Golden Boy of the Gryffindor House. Harry cannot escape recognition and praise where he goes. Anyone with good sense would jump at the opportunity to woo Harry. To be his confidant and most beloved person. It's merely a fact, and Sirius discovers himself fiercely aroused by the thought of Harry _untouched_ , saving himself for that person.

"Not thinking about marriage then?"

Sirius half-expected Harry to be married to the youngest Weasley girl by now. He might have had her pop out two or three of Harry's darling babes, fussing gleefully over the bright orange Weasley locks or Lily's crimson red or the traditional Potter's nose. The names ringing out as James and Lily and perhaps Remus. Maybe even Sirius himself. They would have gone on to be Sorted in the Gryffindor House in no time, making a career in the professional Quiddich sport and training to be Aurors.

An awkward, silent head-shake. Harry crosses his arms, looking down, and Sirius mentally bedamns himself when his cock stiffens up in his trousers. But by Merlin, that's wonderful news. Harry truly may be his own man apart from his father.

"Me neither," Sirius announces, cheerfully. He beckons. "Let me get another look at you. My eyes aren't what they used to be."

Harry extends out his fingers, walking into the room and gripping lightly onto Sirius's hand. He chuckles, amused, as Sirius hums out a merry, off-key tune, gently circling him. Sirius's empty hand rubs up Harry's back soothingly. He wears simple, dark robes, along with woolen trousers and polished, unmarked shoes. The indicators of a wizard who grew up poor but became affluent.

"Hmm… yes, quite right…" Sirius lowers his deep, raspy voice, whispering into the other man's ear. "Absolutely _gorgeous_."

Something unintelligible escapes Harry, as he scratches the back of his neck and flushes. It's an miraculous feat, to Sirius, that Harry could be so utterly oblivious to any and all romantic and sexual overtures directed at him. Sirius places both of his hands to Harry's trim, muscular waist, keeping behind him. Oh, how badly Sirius wants to abandon reason and grind his hardening, fat prick against the curve of Harry's backside until he understands that it is driving Sirius _mad_ from wanting him. All of him.

"That's nonsense…"

"Only because you can't see yourself the way I do," Sirius reassures him, and it's not James he's seeing. Not this time.

It's _Harry_ — grown and real.

"Trust me, Harry. You deserve every ounce of happiness in this world."

Sirius's dark, bristling scruff drags over Harry's skin, when he leans in and kisses him. A slow, hot push of lips to cheek.

Harry has to be willing to listen. Give in. Love.

And, because of the ever-working cogs of fortune, Sirius has all of the time left in his existence for Harry.

*


End file.
